RE: Secrets from the Eichstätt Garden. Second Plates.
Dearest, after we have dropped off OV at Lovelace Respiratory Research Institute for a general inquiry whether they have found anything new with which to remove silica dust from tile-setter lungs, after which he can set the kids up with some proper knowledge by giving some guest lectures at Central New Mexico Community College, to then commune with the fish at Albuquerque Biological Park, we will celebrate life and death at National Museum of Nuclear Science & History (what a charming combo of subjects) and walk into the desert to find a stray, lonesome, singular, off-chance balloon (or is the ballooning season never over in sunny, colourful Albuquerque, and have we to pick amongst a horde?). To this balloon we shall sing like two little puddles of Silent Saturday mothers and sisters, in the fashion of the great ballooner Winnie-the-Pooh, for all the ones who aspire to be free:
How sweet to be a Cloud
Floating in the Blue!
Every little cloud
Always sings aloud.
“How sweet to be a Cloud
Floating in the Blue!”
It makes him very proud
To be a little cloud.
And then we three (maybe four? Depends on the grand finale birthday gift, shall we wait to say?) shall reconvene to sit on igneous rock in the Petroglyph National Monument, where all will fall silent to form a midst of knowing as we all knew it would. Reading to eachother from the petroglyphic rocks we already know by heart.
Gratitude for popped balloons and empty pots.
And, sitting on the sunny rocks no matter the final number.